“Where are my clothes?” she asked.
“They are in the closet,” Duren said quickly, diverting his gaze away from her. “It was the alchemist who undressed you, so inflict any vengeance on him if you must.”
“Get out,” Celia said, harshly. The idea of someone other than her Master seeing her in such a way didn’t sit well. This, she realized, went directly against how Succubi normally operated. She knew the link between them constantly tried to bring them together in various ways—even now, she sometimes found her idle thoughts wandering to him. The truth was, Celia only noticed the link’s manipulations when she was away from him, and she wondered if its promptings had anything to do with how her Master thought of her. If that was the case, her sudden need to keep herself solely for his eyes was due to his desire for the same. Celia grinned, enjoying the thought.
Duren kept his gaze directed away from her as he placed one foot out the door. “Of course. Get dressed and meet me downstairs. An… interesting guest arrived a short while ago, and is also awaiting you there. I’ll take you both to the meeting,” he said, before shutting the door behind him.
A guest? Who would be a guest of hers in Fes? Celia staggered unsteadily to her feet, her legs weak. She turned to the Grauda female. “How long have I been here?”
The female twitched then raised three fingers.
“Three hours?”
The Grauda female shook her head and raised three fingers again.
“Three days?” Celia exclaimed and the Grauda nodded. How potent was that poison? More pressing, however: what would Vhal do if he hadn’t heard any news from her for three days?
Pulling her dress out of the closet, Celia shook her head. On second thought, that insufferable lich wouldn’t do anything. If he heard she was in danger, he would probably only grin, laugh, and call her foolish.
Once dressed, Celia took a moment to appreciate her reflection in the dresser mirror. The site where the bolt had pierced her was fully healed, and the hole in the dress had already begun to repair itself, enough that anyone who didn’t know exactly where to look would have a hard time finding it. She ran her fingers down the soft and silky fabric, enjoying its delicate features. It really was a wonder how such a thing could have stopped the first bolt—then again, it was the mana that infused it, not the material, which provided the protection.
Celia slapped her cheeks twice in an effort to break out of the drowsiness which threatened to overcome her, then hurried from the room and to the staircase at the end of the hallway. She froze on the top step, staring at two figures awaiting her below.
“Ah, Celia. I am glad to see you awake,” a throaty voice said, and Celia cringed at the very sound of it.
“Vhal? What in the Abyss are you doing here?”
The lich chuckled as he placed a decayed hand on Duren’s shoulder. Oddly, Duren didn’t seem to mind. “Our dear friend here sent word of your misfortune, and I came to see that our lord’s Champion does not perish. I must say, how foolish to walk into an ambush you were warned about,” he added, clearly amused.
Celia kept her expression neutral as she descended the stairs, hoping her annoyance wouldn’t show. “You left Git undefended?” she asked, trying to shift the subject away from her.
“Of course not. I brought everyone with me,” he replied, raising his staff in mock salute. “Our mission there is also complete. Since we have already reached this point, we might as well see what we can get from the humans.”
By “complete,” Celia assumed, he had to mean the scouting mission. So the Wervin’s lair had been found.
As for the humans, she honestly didn’t know what to tell him. This meeting had to go her way, she thought grimly, or she would never hear the end of it.
Chapter 14
Celia tapped her index finger impatiently as she looked out at the gray sky above Fes. Duren had taken them to the center of the town where the mayor’s manor lay, and they had followed him into a large and dimly lit meeting hall on the first floor. Unlike the crystal-based lighting Celia had grown used to in Soul’s Rest, these towns and villages mainly used candles.
She sighed as she half-listened to the group of convened mayors argue.
“There are still bodies in the streets!” one said.
“We need to gather all the able-bodied men and take back our towns and villages!” another retorted, which started yet another shouting match.
Celia uncrossed her legs calmly before smashing her fist onto the table in front of her, causing three candles to tumble to the floor, their flames snuffing out.
The room fell silent, all eyes shifting to her, and then to the female Grauda and the dark figure of Vhal behind her. These men were clearly afraid—afraid of her, afraid the three divisions of Grauda Vhal had brought with him, afraid of all the uncertainty. Yet they still found topics to argue about in her presence.
“I think I have given you enough time to deliberate,” Celia said, in a deadly calm tone. “So, what decision have you reached?”
An older man seated beside Duren, who was trying his best to keep his face passive, stood. “You expect us to join your faction and work with—or even worse, under—monsters?” he asked. “I do not agree with Adrian’s methods, they were barbaric and treacherous, but his objections have merit. I for one will not have it.”
“Then you are free to leave the Central Wilds,” Celia replied curtly.
The old man clenched his fist and leaned forward over the table. “Who do you think you are, coming here and giving us orders?” he snapped. “You’re just some man’s slut demon. Go back to your master and service his cock—it’s all your kind are meant for.”
Celia smiled slowly. “Trust me,” she said sweetly, “I’d much rather be doing that then be here talking to someone like you. For one, you’re not very smart, are you?”
The other mayors looked more nervous than ever, their eyes shifting between her, the unusually silent Vhal, and the unmoving Grauda female.
“What was your name again? Never mind.” Celia turned her gaze upon Issac, who had remained calm and collected. “Issac, tell me again. This… whatever this is, it’s meant for mayors, correct?”
Issac nodded.
“I see.” Celia tapped the table in contemplation. “You,” she said to the old man. “Remind me, which settlement are you the mayor of?”
The man’s face turned red. “I am the mayor of Lorx.”
“Lorx, you say? Strange, I’m fairly certain Lorx was overrun and destroyed by the Wervins a while ago… wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Issac confirmed. “One of the first, in fact.”
“Then why are you here? What exactly are you the mayor of? Or are we saying that ruins need representation?” Celia asked, even more sweetly, as if truly curious.
“A good point,” Issac said. “I move to remove all six members who no longer have a town or village to administer. Including myself, of course.”
The older man turned and stared at Issac in amazement. The stare quickly devolved into a hateful glare as rage took over.
“Have you lost your mind, Issac?” he yelled. “Did the demon take you into her bed too? Was that all she needed to do for you to sell yourself to these monsters?”
Issac remained calm. “No. And you know just as well as I that I wouldn’t survive the attentions of Lady Celia. I simply tire of people like you, who have nothing to lose, asking the rest to sacrifice and do your bidding.” Soft murmurs escaped the other mayors, and Celia decided not to choose this moment to point out again that she was not a lady. “The truth is,” Issac continued, “the Fallen have every reason to kill every single one of us. Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t already.”
Duren pushed back his chair loudly and stood, causing everyone to shift their attention to him. “I assure you that even if our gracious representative of the Fallen doesn’t murder you all, then I might. May I remind you that at this point, the people you claim to represent listen to me more than they do you
? There is a lot of resentment stirring among them—resentment that could easily be directed at the people who are meant to protect their interests.”
He then began a slow lap around the table, his gaze shifting from one mayor to the other as he passed them.
“Lady Celia—yes, the same one you have been ridiculing—is an Ascended’s Champion. A Champion who was gravely wounded after she was invited here for formal talks.” Duren shook his head. “I suspect even the Geskian Theocracy would find itself accepting her master’s wish to personally obliterate you, should he request it. That is, assuming his Lordship would even respect the Vala Pact and the Theocracy’s authority in these matters.”
The mayors in the room grew deathly silent, unable to look up from the table in front of them. “Let me be clear,” Duren continued, his expression hardening as his gaze passed over the men assembled here. “I will not stand in the way of any who seeks justice for what they and their loved ones have been put through in the past weeks, while you safely enjoyed the hospitality of Fes. I believe the only thing that might stay their hand is their desire not to upset the Fallen.”
Issac cleared his throat gently. “I think your point has been made, Duren,” he said, placing his open hand on the table in front of him. “Let us have a vote of ousting.”
There was a moment’s silence as the men in the room glanced nervously at one another. The older man who had spoken against Celia spat on the ground before slamming a closed fist down on the table. “I will not be threatened into submission,” he growled.
Celia sighed and watched the fifteen-member council slowly continue their voting, every man placing their hand—closed or open—on the table. Shortly after, Issac stood and counted, before a small smile formed on his face. “The votes are in and cannot be challenged,” he stated firmly. “Ten for and five against.” Unsurprisingly, other than Isaac, all the mayors who would be ousted by this vote had voted against it.
The older man glanced around the room in disbelief. “You all have gone mad. You’re under her spell, aren’t you?” He stood, his hand going to the hilt of a small dagger strapped to his belt, but froze when Vhal’s eyes suddenly flashed a bright blue.
The older man’s face went utterly pale before he quickly let go of his dagger and raised his hands in surrender. He took one last glance around the table, then he turned and stormed out. Celia waited as the other five former mayors, including Issac, shuffled out of the room after him. She leaned closer to the Grauda female at her side. “Follow them,” she whispered. “Kill that one and ensure the others make no trouble. If they do… take care of it, discreetly.”
The female’s antennae twitched slightly before she nodded and left. Although Celia had whispered the order, she deliberately made sure the men sitting nearest to her would have no difficulty eavesdropping. From the way they kept their hands on their laps and their gazes fixed on the table, they knew exactly where the Grauda female was going.
“Now that the unpleasantness is over, shall we discuss more productive things?” Celia asked brightly.
Duren smiled. “I hope you don’t mind me heading the meeting, for the sake of expediency.”
“Of course not,” Celia replied, gesturing for him to continue.
“I present a topic of vote,” Duren said, as he took his seat. “A vote to begin negotiations with the goal of declaring us subjects of the Fallen.”
The mayors again glanced at each other. Then, with the exception of one man, they all placed their hands on the table once more.
“How did this go? Ah, yes—the votes are in and cannot be challenged. Eight for, and none against, with a single abstention.”
“Good,” Celia said with a wide grin. “I congratulate you all on your sound decision-making. As a representative of the Fallen, I recommend Issac leads your delegation to my Master.” She stood and stretched, then strode down the length of the table. “I will also be sending a group of Grauda to protect the settlements most vulnerable to attack, while another group led by myself will move to end the Wervin threat for good. We have located their lair.”
The men looked at her in surprise. “You will separate your forces?” asked the eldest man, the only mayor to have abstained. If she remembered correctly, he was Orin, the mayor of Fes and Adrian’s father.
“While you are not yet officially part of the Fallen, my Master would still want me to protect you as prospective future members. He takes the safety of his peoples very seriously.” Celia smiled. Perhaps too seriously, she thought affectionately.
She had stopped in front of a window overlooking the square below, which was still packed with the refugees who had stormed the town. She spotted a woman and her child sharing a small piece of bread barely large enough for one of them. Celia turned back to the assembled men, her expression thoughtful.
“Which brings me to something I wished to discuss with you, Mayor Orin.”
Orin slowly met her gaze, his hands shaking as they gripped his cane. “Of course,” he croaked. “What is it you wish to discuss?” The man was old, Celia thought, too old to do the job he held. She was certain his son was the true mayor of Fes, in all the ways that mattered at least, which explained how Adrian had been able to do what he did.
“I believe it’s safe to assume you wouldn’t want your future Faction Lord to know how poorly his subjects, especially helpless women and children, were treated in their time of need? Left to fend for themselves out there, to be preyed upon by others,” she added, making sure to keep her tone level and hide the disgust simmering inside her.
The mayor slowly raised a thin and wrinkled hand to dab at his forehead with a white cloth. “Of course not. I will take every action required to take care of them.”
“Good,” Celia said joyfully. “And I’m sure the others wouldn’t let your town take on all the burden. With the Grauda taking care of your security, you should be able to house and provide for a significant portion of the refugees, including your own townsfolk.”
Celia turned back to Duren, who couldn’t hide his enjoyment at how this meeting was proceeding.
“Duren, please ensure everyone does their part,” she said, before again addressing the whole table. “Once I am done with the Wervins and hopefully recover the kidnapped, I will return here to collect your delegation. Then we will make our way to my Master, where you will officially join the Fallen.”
Orin trembled as he placed both hands on his cane and struggled to push himself to his feet. He bowed his head. “Thank you, Lady Celia. I cannot tell you how ashamed I am of my son’s actions. I can only hope that you and your Master find it in your hearts to not blame his foolishness and my lack of awareness on the rest of the people who call this place home.”
Celia watched the old man for a few moments. Then she turned on her heel and left the room without a word, Vhal following close behind.
That was for her Master to decide.
Chapter 15
King Lucius placed a hand on the glass of the window, watching as an immense blanket of dark clouds moved across the sky in the direction of the Central Wilds. The seasonal rains were here.
Other than the balcony which overlooked the central square, this window offered the best view of his city—Golan, the great capital of Maiv. A city named after the son of Duke Maivann, the founder of this faction. A whole city built as a monument to his son’s sacrifice, in the battle which had secured their independence.
A small smile spread across the king’s face. At least, that was the official story. Although Golan did die nearby in the fight with the forces of Odana, this city had been built over what used to be Malek, an old Caelian city.
The king’s fingers traced the dark silhouette of a large building at the other end of the city, in a perfectly straight line along the Petal Road that cut through the center of the capital.
It was the only other building which rivaled the palace and castle in size. The former manor of the old Caelian governor was now Adara’s temple, the walls and int
erior redecorated in volcanic rock. King Lucius thought about the gorgeous frescos and gemstones which adorned it, the statues of Adara in her all her divine beauty and glory. He let out a breath, misting the windowpane before he turned away from the view to confront his enemy, standing tall and strong atop his desk.
Paperwork. It never ended.
Lucius reached out and picked up a letter he had placed to one side. He turned it over and ran his finger over the unbroken wax seal and the depiction of a celestial star adorning it. The seal of the Jannatin Empire was a rare sight; the Jannatins did not recognize his kingdom, after all. Maiv was a rebel enclave, they claimed, so neither he nor his predecessors had ever received an official diplomatic letter bearing the Empire’s seal.
This seal was particularly special, however. His fingertip traced the tiny symbols etched into the wax, thinking that the enchanter must have been extremely skilled to draw such accurate symbols at that size. Lucius wouldn’t have noticed them if not for the tingling the mana-infused wax imparted at his touch.
Suddenly decisive, he pulled a drawer open and retrieved his knife. Not for a moment did he think this enchantment was in any way dangerous—the amount of mana in the wax was too small to do anything significant. Even so, he never took chances and had asked the mage guild to determine what the enchantment was.
The fact that the wax itself was infused with mana and had no crystal powering it meant one of the Jannatin divinities had some involvement. Lydia was the most likely suspect, given the mana used in this enchant. The symbols were of a simple yet immensely useful wind spell: Wind Speak. It was used for long distance communications, if one had the Magitech and air crystals to enhance its range. In this case, the spell would send a pre-determined message… somewhere, if the letter was opened in any way. They wouldnt be able to determine where the recipient was.
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